


Shut Me Down

by anotherfallenchild



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Temporary Character Death, Castiel's Trenchcoat, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s07e02 Hello Cruel World, Hurt/Comfort, Leviathans, M/M, but otherwise canon, lots of angst seriously I mean LOTS, missing scene to start with, season 7, taking lil' liberties with timelines, within the episode sorta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 00:37:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1668311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherfallenchild/pseuds/anotherfallenchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is already practically running across the parking lot and just before he hurls himself through the motel door Sam catches a glimpse of something bloody, stained and…tan. His breath sticks sharply in his throat; Cas’s trench coat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Impala glides into the almost deserted parking lot, rumbles reverberating nosily against the dingy motel walls. 

The sudden cut of the engine is met by a stark silence, an endless void, punctuated only with the slight breathing of both men. 

After what seems like aeons of terse silence Sam finally can’t take the unbelievable tension that lies thick and heavy in the air. 

“Dean are yo-“

Sam’s words fade quietly on his lips as he glances sideways at Dean. Knuckles whiten on the well-worn leather steering wheel, posture closed and rigid, jarring shadows cast by the harsh green neon ‘Vacancies’ sign highlighting a tightly clenched jaw. 

A slight narrowing of equally green eyes is the only indication that Dean has even registered his brother’s aborted words. Sam shifts nervously, running a hefty hand shakily though his hair. 

After yet another stagnant pause and with an abrupt jerk Dean all but throws himself out of the Impala, slamming the door behind him with such force that Sam’s teeth rattle along with the windows. With a weary sigh he slips out behind his brother, and just about jumps out of his skin when Dean shuts the trunk with such an almighty slam that Sam thinks for a second that the earth is about to split open revealing hellfire and leering demons. 

Before Sam even has time to swallow down his heart, which has suddenly decided to take up residence in his mouth, Dean is already practically running across the parking lot and just before he hurls himself through the motel door Sam catches a glimpse of something bloody, stained and…tan. His breath sticks sharply in his throat; Cas’s trench coat. 

The same trench coat that just hours earlier disappeared with one of their closest friends – hell, even after all that had happened Cas was still more than that; he was family, into the depths of the reservoir followed by an ominous explosion of ‘black goo’. 

In several quick long legged strides Sam is across the lot, all but wrenching the door off its hinges as he bursts into the room. 

Miraculously Dean is only just reaching for the bathroom door handle, hand frozen mid air, his whole body impossibly stiff and still. Sam steps hesitantly towards his brother, opening and shutting his mouth a few times, signature puppy dog look marred slightly by the furrow building in between his brows.

“ Dean…, I think we should talk...?” he begins hesitantly, concern colouring his tone.  
“No.” 

It’s a low guttural sound, drawn from somewhere deep within him.

Sam drops his out reaching hand limply by his side, words yet again dying on his lips. ‘Not good’ Sam thinks, ‘definitely NOT good’. 

They both stand there momentarily frozen, dark waves are now rolling off Dean, hanging heavily in the dimly lit motel room, ominous in their almost physical presence. Desperately, Sam takes yet another tentative step in the direction of his transfixed brother. 

“Dean plea-“

“no.”

So quietly this time that Sam almost thinks he imagined it. Hissed out like a dying breath, barley escaping from Dean’s clenched jaw, jumping high, taut like a bowstring ready to snap. 

Then time seems to speed up again. Sam blinks and his brother’s disappeared through the damp stained bathroom door, filthy trench coat white knuckled in hand. The door slams with a sombre finality. A definite punctuation mark on their non-discussion. 

Breathing in an unsteady breath Sam sinks down onto the bed closest to the door. He runs his hands through his hair for what must be the hundredth time already tonight. 

“It’s going to be a long night.” He mutters to himself as he opens his laptop, casting a worried glance at the firmly shut bathroom door.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam wakes with a start. He’s still fully clothed, with the added, and somewhat uncomfortable, benefit of having used his laptop as a makeshift pillow. 

Rubbing the heels of his hands tiredly into his eyes, attempting to scrub away the hellfire still flickering behind them he sighs quietly. He glances over at the tacky bedside clock, the green neon numbers flicker slightly – 3:37am. Ugh. Why is he even awake? 

Oh. Right., shit. Cas’s horrifying Leviathan induced suicidal baptism. 

Suddenly Sam is very much awake. 

 

He looks quickly over at Dean’s bed. It’s still perfectly made, eerily empty and with his duffel still sitting untouched next to it. The room seems to be caught in a vacuum, not even sounds of passing traffic. The bathroom door remains shut and prophetically silent. 

Panic unfurls heavily in Sam’s stomach, twisting and riling and sinking it’s teeth in. His eyes flick around the shadowed room hurriedly looking for any sign of his brother’s movements. Settling back on the luridly painted beside table, a familiar glint of metal catches his eye; the keys to the impala. 

Frowning slightly he scans the room again, now adjusted eyes resting on the faint crack of light seeping underneath the bathroom door. Grunting, Sam pushes himself off the bed and promptly ends up face down in the ugly and dubiously stained carpet. 

He swears softly and makes sure to step around his own duffel this time, stepping hastily over to the bathroom door. Tucking a long and decidedly shaggy lock behind his ear Sam presses against the door, straining to hear any sound from within. 

The faint sound of running water, probably from the shower, greets his ears. He steels himself for the probable verbal storm he’s about to unleash and knocks tentatively. No reply. After a beat he calls clearing his throat

“Dean..?” 

Still no reply, save for the continued, muffled gurgling of running water. 

Sam’s mind of course, instantly jumps to worst-case scenarios.

“Fuck.” He curses softly and then tries again louder and with more conviction.

“Dean.”

“DEAN. Answer me goddamnit!” 

Silence. 

Dread has truly set in now, creeping familiar and acrid all the way up Sam’s spine to rest in the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. 

He tries the door this time, locked of course. Yet another thing added to the uneasy list he’s complied in his head. After what feels like hours, but which is probably only about two minutes, Sam gives in to the better judgement of intuition and with a crash hat would have been impressive under different circumstances, promptly kicks down the door. 

*

**Author's Note:**

> first chapter for now, but more soon! 
> 
> Please have a listen to Shut Me Down by Rowland S Howard - The lyrics are so heartbreakingly beautiful and relevant.


End file.
